For The Best
by fanofkdc
Summary: Sara has a problem, but can she count on Grissom for support?
1. Chapter 1

Title: For The Best

Author: fanofkdc

Summary: Sara has a difficult decision to make, but will Grissom support her?

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Time for the copy and paste ... not ... mine. Okay?

Author's Note: My fault for listening to depressing music all day (Joy Division, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Cure, Finch) and reading depressing books. I'm sorry.

"Grissom?" Sara stuck her around his office door, simultaneously keeping an eye out for any stray CSIs heading in her direction.

Grissom looked up from his laptop screen and smiled. "Hey, honey, what seems to be the problem? Come in," he greeted her warmly. Never would he get used to the warm feeling that flooded his body every time he saw her; he didn't think he would ever grow accustomed to the fact she was _his_.

Sara smiled her thanks rather blandly, with none of her usual sparkle. Lethargically, she dropped into a chair opposite his desk and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Is something wrong?" Grissom asked, perturbed by her flattened mood. He removed his glasses and set them down on top of a manilla file, standing up and holding out a hand to her. "Come over here, come sit on the couch." He felt her thin hand slip into his, and he gently guided her over to more comfortable seating. He sat her down gently and took a seat next to her, his body facing hers, his hands not relinquishing her hands. "Come on, sweetheart, you can tell me," he whispered.

"Gil ... I'm pregnant." She couldn't bring herself to look at him. Couldn't bring herself to acknowledge the fact it was her fault that it had happened - telling him there was nothing to worry about ... four months into their relationship, she had already maaged to fuck it up.

Grissom frowned thoguthfully. "Okay. When did you find out?" He wasn't expecting to find news of such a ... development ... to not make such an impact on him. Maybe this was when his detachment issues started kicking in.

This was the bit Sara was dreading. "Two months. I'm pretty much two months gone. I knew pretty much straight away. You know, that morning you were eating an range, and I just went and heaved?" He gave her a slight nod. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she breathed. "I just ... I was scared. I still am."

Grissom bit his lip. "That's understandable. It's not every day you find out you're pregnant. That's a pretty big thing." Yep, this was detachment, all right. He looked into her eyes. "What do you want to do?"

"That's what I've spent so much time thinking about. That's why I didn't tell you straight away. You're not angry, are you?"

"Of course not. Why would I be angry? Have you made a decision yet?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I don't know what _you_ want." She smiled sadly.

"I want whatever makes you happy," he said earnestly.

"Do you want kids?"

"I can't say I have any desire for a family of my own," he confessed. "But if that's what you want then ..." he added quickly.

Sara shook her head. "Neither have I," came her whispered admission. "I wasn't sure what your stance was."

Grissom squeezed her hand. "It's not like we've talked about it," he assured her. "We don't really spend much time talking about stuff like that." A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "Firstly, I enjoy it just being the two of us. We've waited long enough, I'm not ready to share you yet." He smiled bleakly. "I know that sounds selfish, but it's true," he added somberly. "And also, I don't know if I'd be a good father. I'm self-centered, solitary, I value my independence. I still have time when I go off and space out."

"I know," Sara sighed. They were still at that point in her relationship when she would sometimes wake up, and the only sign of him would be a note on his side of the bed, telling her he had gone for a drive and that he had his cell with him if she needed him.

"What are you going to do?" He pressed gently. "Because you know I'll be there whatever you decide to do."

Sara heaved another sigh, this one pained. "I'll book myself into a clinic as soon as I can. I'll need a couple of days off after the procedure." Her voice was shaky.

Grissom sawllowed, with some difficulty. "Okay," he croaked. "Let me know what date you book it for, and I'll book us both the days off." At the look on her face, he explained. "Honey, I'm coming with you," he told her. "And I'll need to look after you afterwards."

"Griss ..." Sara began wearily.

"No, Sara." He cut her off sharply. "Sara, I'm just as responsible as you, and it would be wrong of me to be here at work, whilst you're at ... y'know." His expression became troubled. "Sara, I'm going to be there for you," he told her, his thumb caressing her hand.

"I appreciate that," Sara mumbled, staring at their joined hands.

"You need the rest of the day off?"

"I'll be okay."

Grissom slipped his arm around her and squeezed her gently. "You need anything, let me know," he said into her hair. He stood, then helped her up and escorted her to the door, giving her a comforting smile.

"You still in pain?" Grissom leaned against the bathroom door and spoke around a mouthful of toothpaste. Sara was curled up on their bed, hands cradled protectively over her stomach. The D and C had been performed earlier that day, and they had come straight home, Grissom putting her to bed immediately. He had been doting on her hand and foot for the rest of the day, taking her drinks, giving her warm towels for her lower back, supplying her regularly with painkillers, brushing her hair from her face. It killed him to see her in pain.

"Uh," came her groan. "Not as bad as earlier," came her pained reply.

Grissom returned to the bathroom and finished cleaning his teeth, then slowly padded back into the bedroom. He flipped the lights off and slid into bed next to Sara, slipping his hand under the ones on her stomach, rubbing and massaging gently. "Is there anything I can do?" he whispered in her ear, sounding almost desperate. Right now, he would do anything to stop her pain. He would cut off his own arm for her, he would do whatever it took to make her feel better.

Sara leaned back into him, grateful for the relief his hands were providing. "You've already done more than enough," she whispered.

"I haven't," he said. His hand stroked her stomach tenderly, trying to relieve some of the pain and soreness. The doctors told her should be suffering for cramps for two days at least. "Do you need some more sanitary towels?" She had been haemorrhaging quite severely, much to Gil's distress.

If it had been another person, another man, had been this doting, this caring, she might have considered it stifling. But this was different. She could feel how much _he _was suffering, how her pain was affecting him. He wasn't mourning for a clump of cells that had been snuggled in her womb, he was mourning for how _she_ was feeling. "Honey, I'm fine," she assured him. "I just need rest."

"And fluids. And warm compresses. And love and care," he finished. He laid his head on the back of hers, pressing a kiss the base of her skull. "You need anything, you let me know. Okay?"

"Mm hmm," she mumbled. "Oh, and something I was meaning to tell you. The doctors recommended no sex for a week or so. Give me ..."

"Give you time to heal," he said. He squeezed her gently, nuzzling her hair. "It's okay," he confirmed.

"You sure?" She turned to face him gingerly, wincing slightly.

Grissom cupped her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Sara, you think I'd insist on us making love after this? Honey, I'd say you need to have longer than a week to recover. Not just physically ... mentally. I'll wait for you to initiate. And you _know_ I'm not here for purely for sex." He took a deep breath. "I love you," he breathed.

Sara blinked and looked deep into his eyes. "Gil ... that's the first time you've said that."

"I mean it. I was sure the first day we got together, but now seems the right time to tell you. I love you, Sara, and I'm not going anywhere, I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to do - I'm here for you."

"I love you, too, Gil." She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest.

"Get some sleep," he whispered in her ear. She may have dropped off pretty soon, but he didn't fall into slumber for another hour or so.


	2. Chapter 2

_Two months later_

"Gil, we need you to sit in on the interrogation." Brass popped his head around Grissom's office door, setting off the singing fish.

Grissom looked up from a manilla file and frowned in interest, removing his glasses. "Why? Is there a problem? I thought Sara was doing the interrogation."

Brass rolled his eyes. "Which is why I'm askig you to sit in. The dude's a serial rapist, he's either gonna go for her, or she'll go for him." He hadn't finished the sentence before Grissom had jumped and barged out of the room.

"What are you doing here?" Sara asked as she sensed Grissom come up behind her. She was staring through the one-way mirror, eyes skimming over the muscle-bound, tattoo-inked, shaven-headed man sitting in a plastic chair.

"Brass told me you were going to be interrogating Davis. He asked if I'd sit in with you." He stood very close behind her, so close that he could feel their clothes making contact. He wanted to hold her, to protect her in some way - she was still so fragile after her abortion, and they hadn't made love since the procedure, he had only held her close to him at night - but he daren't. She didn't need to face an emotional deluge from him. So instead he stood by her silently for a few seconds, then placed his hand on the small of her back. "Ready?" The word was not much more than a gentle breath of wind passing between his lips.

Sara's head turned in his direction ever so slightly, but she didn't look at him directly. "Yeah," she answered. She gathered herself, grasping the file in her hand a shade tighter. She removed herself from his comforting hand, and walked confidently into the interrogation room. Grissom heaved a sigh, and followed her cautiously.

Davis looked up from the table to see the two criminalists enter the room, and cracked his knuckles by way of greeting. The woman ... not the sort of woman he would necessarily go for, but ... and the guy? The guy sat in the far corner of the room, blue eyes burning intently, glasses folded in his hands. The way he kept looking over at the woman suggested to Davis some sort of relationship beyond colleague status. "What can I do for ya?" Davis asked, leaning back in the chair.

Sara took a seat, and snuck a look over at Grissom, who nodded, barely. She turned back to Davis and flipped open the file. "I'm sure you've been informed why you're here," she said, voice cold and harsh.

He could tell straight away that this was one of those feminist chicks, totally against men like him. If it were up to women like her, he would be hanging by his balls now. "Where were you on the night in question, when Sandy Wilson was raped and murdered?"

Davis shrugged. "At some bar or other on the Strip," he grunted. "Why? You think I had sum'in to do with it?"

"Well, not wanting to point fingers, but DNA we extracted from Sandy, both semen and skin under her nails, tells us you were with her."

Davis smiled. "Oh, she the blonde chick? Yeah, we had sex," he grinned menacingly. "She got a bit wild, y'know? Bit of a handful, scratched my back to shreds."

"Oh, I'm sure," Sara replied drily.

"Yeah, so am I," he spat. "But she's not my type, yeah? I prefer darker ones," he added, looking Sara up and down in an extremely unsavoury fashion.

Grissom jaw clenched, and he tried to keep the anger out of his voice. "Whilst I believe that sexual intercourse took place, Mr Davis," he said, ever-reasonable, "I don't believe it was consensual. You see, the coroner found abnormal tear marks in her vagina, not consistent with consensual, even rough, sex. They happened to be more consistent with rape."

Sara shot Gil a dangerous look, then faced Davis. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"To be quite honest, nothing. Couldn't give a shit either way. Got nothing aside from DNA to prove I murdered her. How do you know the sex wasn't _really_ rough? Then again, maybe I did do it." He replicated the look he had previously given Sara. "You remind a bit of her. Tough. Independent. Bet you've got that shrill voice, too." Grissom's blood ran cold, and he employed as many calming exercises as possible to keep him from pulling out his gun and popping the guy there and then. Davis shot him a look. "Does she scream?" he asked, leering. "Does she beg you to stop? I bet she can get really rough. Probably doesn't like it when you get _too_ dominant, does she? In fact, I bet she's just your bitch. A filthy, dirty bitch."

That did it. Grissom couldn't listen to the guy any more. He whipped his gun from his hip holster and slowly appraoched Davis, jamming the nuzzle up against his throat. The police officer in the room made to stop Grissom, but Grissom put his hand up to halt him. "Another word like that about any single one of my co-workers, and I'll put you in a fucking coma. Got it?"

For the first time in the whole interrogation, Davis look scared. He swallowed. "Seems like you got all the evidence you need to put me away," he grunted. Grissom stepped back and motioned for the police officer to come forward.

"Get this bastard out of my sight, before I change my mind," he mumbled. The police officer cuffed him, read him his rights, and stood him up.

Sara turned around to see Grissom turn on his heel and stalk from the room.

She followed him along the corridor, and caught up with him, reaching for his hand. "Honey," she whispered. "You okay?"

Grissom just turned to look at her, and motioned for her to come into his office. He took a seat on his office couch. Sara sat in one of the other chairs.

"What was that about?" she asked, concerned. Never had she seen Grissom in such a ... scary ... light.

"He ... the way he spoke about you ... like he'd do to you what he's done to other women. I ... he scared me, Sara," he whispered, staring at the floor under his feet. His head snapped up, and his blue eyes penetrated hers. "I want you to know that I would _never_ do anything like that. I love you, I'd never hurt you," he told her earnestly.

Sara smiled back sincerely. The words Davis had spoken, like so many others that men had said to her over the years, just washed over her. She was more concerned about Gil. "I know you'd never hurt me." She looked at the clock on the office wall. "Fifteen minutes to the end of shift, then we can go home," she reassured him. He simply nodded.

"Babe, you coming to bed?" Sara was snuggled up under the covers, watching Grissom undress. The desire for him burned in her, between her thighs, in her stomach - everywhere.

"Just let me finish here," he insisted, pulling off his trousers. He glanced over at the figure lying in their bed, and he automatically felt her lust transfer from her to him. Discarding his clothes so that all he was wearing was a pair of boxer shorts, he crawled over the bed covers to Sara's supine form. His face level with hers, he kissed her tenderly.

Sara deepened the kiss, pulling him full on top of her body. She ran her fingers through his grey curls, savouring the feel of his body, of his warmth - a feeling she had missed despite him holding her every night as they fell asleep. She moaned against his mouth, holding him down on her firmly.

"Sara?" he asked against her mouth.

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure?"

"Two months, Gil two months. This has happened the past three times I've wanted you, and I need you in me."

"I don't want it to be too early, you're still recovering, honey," he whispered, his breath gently caressing her neck. "I'm scared of hurting you," he admitted.

"Gil, we've waited long enough. I need you, right now. Hard." And she could tell he wanted _her._ He had quite quickly hardened against her body, hard enough so that she felt his arousal, even with the duvet between them. Seeing the hesitation, she - wrongly - urged him on. She put her mouth to his ear. "Make me yours, Gil. Take me hard, Griss, I'm your bitch."

Grissom stopped dead, losing his erection instantaneously. Davis's words echoed in his ears, and he pulled himself from Sara, getting off the bed and making for the door.

_Oh, shit_, Sara thought. _Wrong move._ Clambering out of bed, she wrapped herself in robe and went in search of her lover. She found him standing on the balcony with a glass of scotch. "Honey, I'm sorry," she mumbled, reaching for his hand.

He turned to her, taking a sip from his glass. "No. I am," he said mournfully. "I should have relinquished earlier. I shouldn't have put it off."

"Gil, you were only doing what you thought was right. I shouldn't have pushed you. I shouldn't have said those things." She was cold, and she wrapped her arms around her body.

Grissom sighed harshly and put an arm around her, leading her back inside. "Come on, honey, before you catch your death," he whispered tenderly.

"I know you wouldn't hurt me," Sara stated simply. She looked into his eyes. "That was biology talking, sheer animalism. I love you Gil, I trust you implicitly."

Grissom nodded, and placed a kiss on her cheek. "I know," he whispered. "But ... I make love. I don't fuck, and what you asked of me ... it was akin to fucking."

"How about you take me back in there and show me, then," Sara pleaded. "I want you. After today, after two months - I want to feel you in me."

Grissom cocked an eyebrow. "How?"

Sara's eyes lowered. "However you want me. Like I said, I trust you."

Grissom kissed her tenderly, and pulled her body to him. "Come on then. Let me make love to you."

Sara looked at the peacefully-sleepig body laying next to her. He looked like an angel. An angel without wings, here to protect her. She traced her fingers over his muscled biceps. Oh, how tender he'd been last night. He may have had an awful lot of anger stored up within him, but he never showed that side of himself to her. He had been so gentle when they made love, still worried he would be placing unnecessary strain on her after the D and C. Every time he had made a move in her, be it with his tongue, his hand or his mouth, he had looked to her, making sure he was gentle. She had urged him on, and altough he hadn't been as forthcoming as he normally was, her orgasm had been even more intense than usual. How she loved him. She placed a kiss on his shoulder and watched his eyes flutter gently.

"Hey," he mumbled groggily. "Sleep well?"

"Mmmm. Thank you," she said, smiling.

"I aim to please," was his reply. He reached over and stroked her arm. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah. And I love you too, babe." She snuggled in his arms. "I'm sorry I asked of you what I did."

"That's okay. I'm sorry for not being man enough to be able to give you what you wanted."

Sara laughed and looked in the direction of his crotch. "Oh, honey, you're _more_ than able. You're highly skilled in pleasuring me. I understand what my words did to you, though. I shouldn't have goaded you."

"That's okay. Looks like we're both equal. I love you."

"I love you too. Go back to sleep."


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter is dedicated to odeepblue, without whom I probably wouldn't have decided to write a final chapter - you have acted as a partial muse to me, or at least you have helped to unleash one or two ideas I had lurking about. You kinda confirmed what I thought I could write about, although I'm not going to follow one of the suggestions because the whole point of me writing this fic was for there to _not_ be a baby. So thank you for your input, inspiration, help and support. Enjoy, everyone._

_Three weeks later._

"You seem to be drinking a lot of scotch lately." Sara stood against the sliding door that led out on to the balcony.

Grissom looked over his shoulder and took another sip of the amber liquid. "Tough few weeks, y'know," he mumbled.

Sara's eyes narrowed. "Are you drunk?"

"No, I'm not," he answered, truthfully. "I wish I was, though," he admitted.

Sara joined him and leaned into his side. "What's up?" she asked, looking out on to the street before them. It was still the early hours of the morning, and so there weren't many people out on the road. Ever since she had asked him to take her hard, he had been distant. He still held her at night, but they'd only made love three times since then, and for the past week, he had been going off on his little sojourns again. And now he was starting to drink. She knew the child abuse case they had been working that week was taking its toll on him, and after seeing bruises on his knuckles, she had come to the conclusion that the purpose of his lone travelling was to punch a solid brick wall.

He heaved a sigh, and took another swig of liquor. "This case just got to me a bit." He turned and gave her an unconvincing smile.

"Right," she said, disbelieving. "What you do to your hands? And don't lie, and say you trapped them in the car door, or whatever excuse you were gonna come up with. I want the truth. And while you're at it, you can tell me _exactly_ why you've been funny the past two or three weeks."

Gil pursed his lips, and opened his mouth, no air passing across his vocal cords for a second or two. "I had an argument with a brick wall," he confessed quietly, almost as if he were ashamed that he wasn't able to control his anger. "That's why I'm not there when you wake up. I get these ... these terrible urges to lash out when I wake up in the middle of the night, and I need catharsis. But I don't want you to see me like that."

"Just because something angers or upsets you, Gil - you can't go running to escape it, you can't hide it from me. That's who you are, whether you like it or not. Drinking won't help, either," she added, shooting a disdainful look at his tumbler.

He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "What the fuck else am I supposed to do? Beat up the fucker who raped and killed his own child? Beat up all the bastards that are dragged in from our investigations because they do the most horrifically unspeakable things to other human beings?"

Sara turned her whole body to face him, and touched his arm. "Talk to me about it. You let me talk to you when I have a hard time with cases like this, allow yourself the same courtesy. You've nothing to be ashamed of," she intoned sincerely. She smiled gently and touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes.

"I'm ashamed that I feel so angry," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I don't want you to see me as an animal. I don't want to burden you, I ... I don't want you to know that I come so close to losing control so often."

"It's natural to feel that way, especially considering that being in control is very important to you. Honey, I understand that. I know that you're scared of losing control, be it to someone else, or just in a moment of anger."

Grissom smiled weakly. "You don't know how dangerous it is for me to do that. You have no idea how dangerous it is for me to vent."

She took the tumbler from his hand and set it on the balcony table. The hand on his arm slid further up, and she pressed him close to her, savouring his smell. She spoke into his chest. "It _is_ okay to vent, babe," she said.

He rested his chin on her head and rubbed her back. "I wish I could, but how?"

Sara pulled away and looked up at him. "Fuck me," she whispered.

His face fell straight away. "No," he said definitively. "Out of the question."

"Why?" she wheedled. "Gil, I know it's what you want, even if you won't admit to it yourself. I know you love me, so you won't hurt me if you're rough. I just want you ... I don't know," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I just wish you'd trust me, I wish you'd trust yourself enough to just let go."

He traced his thumb across her lips. "I couldn't, Sara. I don't wanna hurt you."

"Why are you so afraid that you'll hurt me?"

"It's happened before."

_Oh, _this_ was interesting_. "What happened?"

"I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Well I do, so I guess I win. Spill." She pressed her head to his chest and rocked them slightly. "I won't judge you," she said quietly.

"I had a lover. She wanted to tie me up. Being young and naive, I let her, reluctantly, because I didn't want to relinquish control, but I wanted to please her. In the end, I got so frustrated that I broke out of the restraints, pinned her to the bed and fucked her. I scared the hell out of her, and she refused to make love to me again. So the relationship ended."

"Oh, honey, I _trust_ you. Implicitly. You could never scare me, you could never hurt me. And I'd never ask you to do something you're not comfortable with. But I know that you need this," she added when she saw that he was about to speak. "Gil, maybe if you let yourself fuck me, like I know you want to, you might not need to do it again. It might release the tension that you have inside."

He sighed again, and she could tell that he was willing to do it. "If I hurt you, I'm so sorry. I want you to tell me the minute you feel any pain. 'Cause I swear to God that me moving in you, and I mean _really_ fucking moving in you, it's not going to be the most gentle thing in the world."

"That's what I'm banking on, babe," she told him. She began to unbutton his shirt, but he stooped and grabbed her under her thighs. He pulled her to him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her back to their bedroom and threw her down roughly on the bed. He literally ripped his shirt off, all the buttons snapping from their threads. He bent over her and pinned her arms up above her head, his other hand flipping open her robe. He kissed her harshly, at the same time practically jamming two fingers inside her. She let out a parched cry.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes dark, his chest heaving. He had to lean closer to her to hear her speak.

"Harder," she gasped, and he obliged. He reared up and swiftly unbuttoned his trousers, sliding them and his boxers down his thighs, kicking them off hurriedly. His raging erection pressed against her as her divested her of her robe and her underwear, and before she knew, he'd removed his fingers from her again and plunged his rock-hard cock into her. She yelled out loud again. "Oh, God, that feels good," she moaned, tightening her legs around him.

"Good. I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked. She shook her head, and he pushed into her harder, his hips rocking against her roughly. The tendons in his neck stood out, and his eyes were closed in concentration. He continued to slam into her, one hand holding her left hip, his fingers splaying across the lower left side of her back as well, the other hand cupping her cheek.

"Open your eyes."

They indeed opened. "What?"

"Watch me come," she pleaded, reaching up and holding his face between her hands. "Come on Gil, fuck me harder than that, I know you've got it in you."

His eyes locked with hers, and he pushed into her so damn hard. He frowned. "I love you Sara, I love you so damn much," he gasped.

"I know you do, Gil, I know," she gasped back. Her eyes closed as she climaxed, but he traced her cheek.

"Look at me," he whispered, grunting in between words. They looked at each other, panting, gasping and straining as they came. She screamed out loud, and he let out a massive groan.

As soon as he withdrew (gently, it had to be said), he pulled her into his arms, his chest still heaving, and stroked her hair. "You okay?"

"Mmm," Sara murmured, resting against him. Her head hit the pillow as he sat up, and he bent over her hips. "Wh-what are you doing, honey?" she asked, watching him look between her legs.

"Checking if there's any damage," he replied, his eyes examining where he'd been seconds before. He looked up into her eyes and frowned slightly. "There's a bit of bruising, but no tearing," he told her.

"Are _you_ okay?" she inquired. He nodded, and she held out her arms to him. He rested his head on the top of her chest, slipping his arms under her to hold her, and one of her hands rested over his torso, the other stroking his hair. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" she cooed.

"No. You were right," he agreed. "But -"

"Yes, I _will_ ask you to do that again. But no often. Tough cases only. I love you too much to ask to do something you're not comfortable with."

She felt him smile against her. "Thank you. Thank you for being my catharsis."

"Now and forever, babe," she told him sleepily. "Now and forever."

THE END


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